


none of us are saints

by stray_dog_sick



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Parenting, Homophobia, M/M, Religion, gotta love that mormon upbringing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 17:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10416903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_dog_sick/pseuds/stray_dog_sick
Summary: A couple of teenagers vs. the world.Or versus their small Mormon hometown, at least.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i've had folkin' around stuck in my head for a while
> 
> y'all can find me on tumblr at crashingnowave  
> title from 'runaway' by ed sheeran.

If Brendon has to listen to his homeroom teacher for one more minute, he might start screaming.

Homeroom, as far as he’s concerned, is a class where he can try to wake up and finish his homework. Most teachers in the school agree with him on that - 8:45 was far too early to begin teaching. But no, his homeroom teacher also happens to run the debate team, which no one ever showed up to, and so weekly discussions became a thing.

It isn’t how he wants to spend a Friday morning. He wants to be napping, not thinking of debate points. Especially not about _this._

“So I’ll leave it up to you,” his teacher says. “Anyone who agrees that the church should allow homosexual relations on the left, and anyone who disagrees, on the right. 

Brendon knows how this is going to end up. It'll be him against 23 other teenagers. It'll be him against the world.

This scenario isn’t how he was planning to tell his fellow students that he was gay (okay, Brendon wasn’t planning to let them know at all, but that’s beside the point) and it wasn’t the excuse he was going to give for not doing his US History homework. _Sorry, Miss. I had to defend myself in homeroom. You can ask the entire student body for confirmation; I’m sure they know by now._

There’s silence for a second. “Not the split I was expecting,” the teacher says quietly. “Weekes, would you like to start us off?”

“Yeah, I would.” Brendon jumps as a voice comes from behind him, partly because he isn’t alone, mostly because he’s with Dallon Weekes.

“Most of the things listed as serious transgressions are understandable - murder, adultery, theft, and so on. The Ten Commandments, as well as other illegal stuff like drugs. Putting homosexual relations on that list implies that those people are on the same level as rapists and murderers when actually, their relationship isn’t hurting anybody.”

Everybody is staring at Dallon. He’s aware of this - chin held high, defiant look in his eyes. No one expected him to be on this side, especially not Brendon.

Brendon thinks he looks scared and angry and _beautiful_.

“Does anyone want to add to or counter that?” the teacher asks. No one speaks up.

“Sex before marriage is also listed as a serious transgression,” Brendon says since no one is arguing back. “So some of you might wanna think about that too. That list needs rewriting.”

Finally, people start to talk - the people he knows have had sex, funnily enough - and the debate gets going. Brendon tries to keep his anger under control at the idiotic points made by the rest of the class and leaves most of the talking to Dallon.

“Something as harmless as homosexual relations shouldn’t be on a list with serious crimes like murder and abuse,” Dallon repeats, his jaw clenched. He says it slowly, like this time he can maybe get them to understand his point.

“It’s still disgusting!” someone replies. Kailyn, he thinks her name is. “And I shouldn’t have to see it.”

“So you don’t like seeing two guys being affectionate because it’s too in-your-face? Well, that’s pretty hypocritical, since I see Elijah with his hand up your shirt every morning by the lockers.” Brendon finally speaks up, and a few people gasp.

“So what, Urie? Get yourself a girlfriend, and I guarantee you’ll be doing the same thing!” Elijah taunts, leaning forwards. “Or, you know, maybe you won’t. Bet you’re both gay. And you’re trying to turn us all into sinners like you.”

“Congratulations, you figured it out. I, Brendon Urie, am gay. I wouldn’t worry about being turned gay, though. We only try to convert guys that are attractive.” The sarcastic reply rolls off Brendon’s tongue.

Dallon opens his mouth to say something too.

The bell rings.

“We’ll finish this some other time!” the teacher says as the students gather their bags. Oh, yeah. It’ll probably get finished in a parking lot, ending with a broken rib or two for Brendon and some bruised knuckles for everyone else.

\---

He sees Dallon again in his last period, a study session in the library. He’s hiding in the corner, away from everyone’s judging eyes. By now, the whole school knows, and by 7 o’clock most of the town will too. They’ll talk about him over dinner.

_Hey, Ma, did you know that Brendon Urie is gay? No, I didn’t either until today. His family must be so ashamed of him. And Dallon Weekes, he might be too. Didn’t expect that from the Weekes family, never in a million years._

“That’s brave of you, associating yourself with a disgusting sinner like me,” Brendon mutters as the chair next to him is pulled out.

“They already think I’m as bad as you. There’s no point trying to deny it,” Dallon replies quietly. “And anyway, you’re the brave one, I think. Saying what you did.”

“Brave?” Brendon snorts. “No way. Stupid, sure, but not brave. My parents are probably gonna kick me out when they find out.”

Dallon shrugs. “Mine definitely will. My father practically runs this town’s church. It won’t be long before someone tells him.”

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” Brendon says. “You had a future here. I just have a guitar and no idea when to shut up.”

Dallon doesn’t say anything, and Brendon tries to study. Maybe he can move school districts and finish high school at least.

Or maybe he’ll just get a busking license and hope for the best. The second option seems more likely. He’s almost eighteen; he can look after himself. Maybe not legally, but he can.

At least he won’t be alone. There are worse people he could have as a companion. He thought Dallon would be boring, coming from the family that he does, but he’s anything but that. He’s also adorable, especially when he’s passionate about something, and Brendon isn’t afraid to admit to himself that he might have a bit of a crush.

Brendon starts to pack his books away before the final bell when he feels a hand on his arm. He looks over at Dallon, who has a grave look on his face. “You’re a musician; I’m a musician. We can get out of here together. Who cares about the future I had here? I’d much rather be able to be myself.”

\---

The weekend is bad, and Brendon spends most of it deciding which of his belongings are essential and which he can leave behind. His parents found out and told him to either be the good Mormon boy he’s supposed to be or move out by the end of next week.

It’s sad, realising that his entire life can fit into a large backpack. He won’t miss anything he’s leaving behind. Well, the video games maybe, but those never belonged to him. Now he just has a backpack, a guitar, and a cajón. And Dallon.

He sees the taller boy again at church on Sunday. Dallon is sat on a picnic bench outside, and Brendon’s parents don’t stop him from sitting there too. They know what his decision is.

Dallon appears to be doing worse than he is. He has red eyes, his right one surrounded by a black and purple bruise. “Guess they weren’t happy, huh?” Brendon asks quietly.

Dallon ducks his head. “Nope. I have to be out the house by tonight. They don’t seem to care that I’m still seventeen until the beginning of May.”

“I have to leave too. Already packed. My birthday’s in like three weeks, so we only have to avoid the police for that long,” Brendon replies. “It sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke, you know. Two underage gay Mormon boys get kicked out of their homes…”

Dallon laughs - or tries to, at least. “It sure does. They were gonna find out eventually, but this isn’t how I wanted it to happen.”

“Me neither. Sorry for not being able to keep my mouth shut.”

They’re quiet for a moment before Dallon moves round to the other side of the table and pulls Brendon into a hug. He realises a little late that he’s crying, tears soaking into the taller boy’s shirt.

He’s crying, and he’s ruining a perfectly good shirt. He’s been doing that a lot recently. He ruined his family’s reputation, and he ruined his own life by not being able to keep quiet and oh God, he’s ruined Dallon’s life too, he got kicked out, and it’s _all Brendon’s fault-_

“No, no, shush, none of this is your fault, it’s theirs for being so close-minded,” Dallon mumbles, and he realises that he said some of that out loud as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve what I've put you through,” Brendon sobs, clinging to Dallon’s shirt.

“You don’t deserve this either, okay? And hey, I’ve been waiting for a chance to get into the music business,” Dallon jokes. “You better have instruments, though. I can play, but I don’t own anything over than my singing voice.”

“I have a guitar and one of the drum box things. You can have the guitar if you want since I can’t play both at the same time. And I sing. We’ll be great. A two-man band with _vocal harmonies,_ dude,” he replies, leaning back to wipe his eyes. He’s crying less than he was a minute ago, which is a good thing. He’d hate for his parents to see this.

“Can you get your stuff down to Grove Park at eight tonight?” Dallon asks. “I have a car we can use. Maybe we should head for Salt Lake City.”

Brendon nods. “Yeah, I’ll be there. The city sounds promising.”

“Then we’ve got ourselves a plan!” Dallon grins. The doors to the church open, and they stand up, hoping to get away before the whole church spots them sitting together. The taller boy leans down quickly and kisses Brendon’s forehead. “See you later,” he says.

“Yeah, see you soon,” Brendon replies, slightly dazed, watching Dallon walk away. He needs a little longer to pull himself together. It’s not very often that he’s caught off guard by a simple forehead kiss, but it’s also not very often that he falls for someone this hard and fast.

Yeah, there are worse people he could be travelling across Utah with than Dallon Weekes.

\---

The radio in the car begins to drop out about half an hour after they leave, and no one bothers to change the station, happy to sit in silence.

“Have you ever been to Salt Lake City?” Brendon asks, curling up in his seat. Dallon had offered to drive since it was his car, and they should be in the city by ten o’clock.

The taller boy shakes his head. “Nope. Apparently, it’s a city full of sin, but I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. It’s not Las Vegas or anything.”

Brendon chuckles. “No, it’s not Las Vegas.”

He watches Dallon as they drive, street lights casting shadows in the car. He’d had a lot of doubts about the journey between church and when they left - is he prepared to be living in a car for the foreseeable future? But the fact that he’s happy to sit in silence, something he isn't very good at, is enough evidence for him that this is where he’s supposed to be.

It’s a small car, and it won’t be comfortable, he knows that. Dallon is easily over 6 foot tall, and he’s not exactly short either. He doesn’t mind getting cramp if it means he gets to wake up next to Dallon every morning. Which is the kind of thing he didn’t expect to be thinking about anyone, but he continues to be surprised by his companion. No wonder he’s got a bit - _a lot_ \- of a crush.

“You should sing something,” Dallon suggests suddenly. “Something silly, though. Like a folk song.”

It’s a good suggestion, Brendon thinks. Silent car journeys are never fun. He’s drawing a blank, though - he could probably recite most of Fall Out Boy’s discography, but folk songs? Not his thing.

He remembers something he wrote a year or so ago, for his music class. “This is gonna be a very cheesy song,” he warns Dallon before he starts singing.

“Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two, where summers lasted longer than, longer than we do, when nothing really mattered except for me to be with you, but in time we all forgot, and we all grew,” he sings softly, pretending to strum a ukulele.

“Well, that’s very depressing for a folk song,” Dallon interrupts. “You have a lovely voice, though. Better than mine.”

“I’m sure you sound amazing. And it isn’t a folk song; it’s just something I wrote for music class a while back,” he replies.

“I have a question for you. About whatever the hell is going on now.” Dallon says hesitantly. Brendon can see that his hands are sweating slightly, and he curls up tighter, afraid of what the question could be. “Why did you agree to this? Staying with me, I mean. You didn’t have to.”

Brendon relaxes again. It wasn’t the question he was expecting - Brendon’s not sure _what_ he was expecting, exactly, but he knows it wasn’t that. “Because the stuff that's happening to us? No one should have to go through that alone. Nothing about this is fair. Also, you’re adorable when you get all passionate about something.”

It takes him a second to fully process what he said, and he wants to take it back. Not because it isn’t true, but they’ve both just been forced out of their homes. Hitting on Dallon isn’t helping his situation at all. What if Dallon isn’t interested? He doesn’t want to be left on the side of the road.

“You’re kind of cute too, you know.” Dallon’s voice interrupts him from his thoughts, and he looks over at the taller boy in shock. “Half the reason I offered to drive was so that I wouldn’t be tempted to lean over and kiss you.”

“Well, if you pulled over and did that, I wouldn’t object.”

“We’re almost in Salt Lake City. Give me half an hour, and I’ll be all over you, babe,” Dallon responds, reaching over to rest a hand on Brendon’s leg.

“I don’t think I want to stay in Salt Lake City for long, though. I want to get out of Utah, to somewhere that’s more accepting of us.”

“Well, we need sleep and food, and we can take some money out of an ATM for gas. But yeah, maybe we should be looking a bit further. Why should we be homeless, successful musicians in our own state when we could be homeless and successful anywhere in the country, right?”

Brendon knows Dallon is joking, but he makes it sound almost believable. Like they can go anywhere and do something with their lives even when they’re living in a car. Like a couple of homeless, gay teenagers won’t end up in a dumpster within a week.

“Maybe we can settle in Seattle or something. I’ve heard Washington is perfect for gay people. It’s only like 12 hours through Idaho and Oregon, I think,” he suggests, resting his hand on top of Dallon’s.

The taller boy nods and they drive in silence for a while longer, before they start to see the city skyline in the distance.

It looks dirty. It looks amazing. It looks like freedom from the life they had before.

“Weird to think we’ve only actually known each other two days, huh? It feels like forever,” Dallon points out.

“Well, we’ve got a twelve-hour car journey to get to know each other,” Brendon replies, looking out the window. Not that getting to know the other boy will change anything for him. He’ll stick with Dallon through this, no matter how many dirty secrets his new friend has, or how tough it gets further down the road.

Just them against the world.


End file.
